"Okay, pay attention now." She breathed in deeply and rested her hands on her knees, her lotus much, much better than mine, the Cadillac lotus instead of the Yugo. Her legs began to quiver gently, flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing, and then with a sudden spring she was up in the air, up about four inches from the ground, then hitting back down on the carpet with a light thump before shooting up again like a human superball.

"Umm... Muse... it's pretty impressive and all," I said, "especially with your tight shirt and lack of a bra and all, but it's not really levitating."

She didn't stop her bouncing, but said, each word coming out as she lifted off the floor into the air, "Reality... is... an... illusion..." Bounce bounce bounce. "Your... brain... deceives..." She hit the ground a final time and stopped, exhaling heavily with a whoosh of air. "Or in words that your media-addled brain can relate to, there is no spoon."

"Oh sure, quote The Matrix at me."

"Whatever gets you interested, grasshopper."

"I was pretty interested in watching you bounce," I said, smiling as lecherously as I could manage.

"Don't make me kick your ass in slow-motion, Keanu." She nodded her head at me. "Now you try it."

"You realize I'm a stiff old man who hasn't been limber in 30 years, right?"

"There is no spoon."

"You're a sad woman, Muse."

"And you're pitifully out of shape. Get to bouncing."

"Shrew," I said, lifting my legs about a quarter inch off the ground. My ass, however, never made it off the carpet.